


Wrapped Around You

by NBWerewolfLover



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Thunder and Lightning, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 19:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16939701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NBWerewolfLover/pseuds/NBWerewolfLover
Summary: Stiles gets trapped inside Peter's apartment during a thunderstorm.





	Wrapped Around You

Throwing one last glance at the dark heavy wall of clouds rolling in over Beacon Hills, Stiles throws open the Jeeps door and makes a mad dash across the glistening parking lot, rain drops already pelting down on his back.

 

Stiles almost knocks the lobby door off of its hinges in his rush to get inside, when the low rumble reaches his ears.

 

Everyone that knows Stiles, met Stiles of has had a run in with him will tell you that he has no sense of self preservation, he's recklessly, stupidly brave when It comes to protecting the people he cares about.  He doesn't back down from a challenge. Ever.

 

Crazed Alpha's, Kanimas, Darachs nothing can make him lose control.  No matter how horrified or terrified he may be, he stays outwardly calm and collected, diving head first...baseball bat first into the danger. 

 

What nobody knows, not even Scott, his best friend and brother, is that Stiles is terrified of thunder and lightning.  A whole nother level of terror than the usual brought on by the monster of the week.

 

No, this is a completely different ballgame, however irrational it may be.

 

It's the flash, the ragged shaft of blinding energy randomly cutting through the atmosphere that does it.  And then the anticipation for the crack of sound. 

 

Stiles has no control over his reactions when it comes to thunder and lightning.  While he usually has a tight leash on his reactions once fear floods his systems, in this instance he is all instinct, no rational thought at all.

 

To Stiles’ shame, whenever there is a slight sign on thunder in the air, he flees home, closes his windows and curtains and hides out under his covers, pillow over his head.  When it gets really bad, he hides in his closet.

 

Luckily Beacon Hills doesn't get thunderstorms regularly.  Wind, rain and Darach induced storm, but not thunder as much.

 

Today however, there is definitely something heavy and electrical brewing in the wall of clouds crouching over the preserve.  And it's closing in fast.

 

That is why Stiles is practically crawling out of his skin.  He desperately wants to be ensconced in his room right now, save and sound.  But Scott asked him… no ordered him to come pick something up at Peter's apartment.  Scott wasn't being very clear, too distracted by Kira smiling at him across the hall.  It was something about a book. And it has to be right now apparently. To be honest Stiles wasn't really listening all that much, to busy obsessing about the disappearing sun outside.

 

‘Come on.  Come on’ Stiles chants, thumb repeatedly and forcefully hitting the call button of the elevator, irrationally trying to get it to get there faster.  ‘Come on! Please!’ Stiles whimpers, biting his other thumb nail, body vibrating.

 

He flies into the elevator as the doors open, startling an old lady exiting at the same time.  Stiles doesn't even apologise, already hitting the button for the top floor.

 

The ride up to Peter's apartment, that naturally has to be the penthouse apartment in Beacon Hills’ most luxurious apartment buildings, feels like it takes an eternity.  He does some breath exercises to push down the ever rising panic. He can almost feel the storm racing towards him, closing in, the electricity in the air making his hair stand on end.

 

By the time Stiles practically sprints out of the elevator, skidding to a hult in front of Peter's apartment door, he's practically sobbing.

 

He lifts his shaking hand to knock, but lowers it again, taking a deep breath and holds it for a few seconds, slowly releasing it while rubbing his hands over his face.

 

Just as he's about to knock again the door opens and there Peter leaning against the door frame, arrogant smirk in place.

 

‘Stiles’ he purrs.  ‘Planning on camping on my doorstep for the rest of the day?’

 

Stiles, not himself right now, doesn't snark back, or even glare.  He just stares at Peter.

 

‘Well you should probably come in I suppose’ Peter sighs, walking back into the apartment.

 

Stiles follows him inside and closes the door behind himself.

 

Peter's dressed in a soft white Henley and tight dark blue jeans, but he is barefoot.  For some reason Stiles’ brain, even as adrenalin wired as it is, can't help but get tangled in that little detail.  

 

Peter Hale  _ barefoot _ .

 

It's almost obscene.  Peter has big feet. Slim, sexy, beautiful feet.

 

‘Stiles, is there a reason for your presence here, other than to give you an opportunity to stare at my floor?’

 

Now, if Stiles’ thought process wasn't so slowed down and jumbled up due to his brain swimming in fight or flight hormones, he would have realised that Peter didn't even know he was coming over to fetch something.

 

‘Uhm’ Stiles gently shakes his head to try and clear it.  Before he can even think what to say or even remember what he is doing here, there's a dull thud somewhere in the distance and then there is darkness and ringing silence.

 

For a crazy second he thinks he has gone blind and death.

 

‘Ugh!  Wonderful!’ he hears Peter crouch from out of the darkness.

 

‘I pay a fortune to live here and they couldn't even bother with a generator.’

 

Now that Stiles actually looks around, he sees thin grey light filtering in through the rain dotted floor to ceiling windows that make up Peter's entire front facing wall.

 

‘Hang on’ Peter tells him and he hears the faint rustle of clothing as Peter moves around, but he can't make anything out in the dark, so he stays where he is.  Knowing him, if he moves he would trip and break his neck.

 

Just as he looks at the windows, the only source of minute light, a ragged orange and white bolt splits the air, followed almost instantly by a boom that all but shakes the building.

 

Stiles doesn't think, just drops and rolls into a tight ball, forehead against the hardwood floor, arms over his head, his breath coming out in shallow pants.

 

‘Here we go…’  Peter's voice comes out of the darkness, but Stiles doesn't register it.  ‘Stiles?’ A warm hand between his shoulder blades.

 

Stiles’ adrenalin flooded brain settles a little at the firm, warm pressure.

 

‘It's okay, sweetheart.’

 

Stiles’ whole body jolts again as another flash lights up the darkness.

 

He whimpers when the hand disappears and he feels Peter get back up and move away.

 

‘I'll be right back.’

 

Stiles curled himself up even tighter.  He doesn't know how long he lies there, it feels like hours.  He is vaguely aware of Peter moving around in the apartment. The storm roars outside, the only light getting inside the windows the constant lightning flashes.

 

Stiles yelps when he is bodily lifted off of the ground. His face gets tightly pressed against Peter's throat.  And wow! The significance of that in staggering! The trust involved for a wolf, a wolf so close in contact with his instincts as Peter, to let someone that close to his throat, his most vulnerable point.  But he will worry about that later, for now he just presses closer.

 

He tightens his arms frantically around Peter's neck when he feels himself being lowered.

 

‘It's okay, sweetheart.  Calm down. I'm not going anywhere.’ Peter's arm tighten around him, pulling him even closer.

 

All Stiles’ senses instantly zero in on Peter.  His warm, supernatural heat surrounding him. Too warm but so good...grounding.  Petrichor, earth, musk and a hint of something wild, untamed pouring out of the the skin right under his nose.  The hard, firm chest against him rising and falling, gentle breaths puffing against his ear, sending goosebumps tingling across his skin.  Warm supple skin under his palm, hair trickling his thumb there is rest at the nape of Peter's neck.

 

They sit there for what seems an eternity, the world and the storm outside falling away.  Only the two of them existing in their warm little bubble. 

 

Stiles wants to stay like this forever, but eventually he realises he has to face the world...or specifically Peter Hale.  Heat rises in his cheeks where his face is still stuffed under Peter's chin. He has a horrible suspicion that he is currently sitting in Peter's lap.

 

Slowly he eases back, eyes averted.  He really doesn't want to see the scorn and mocking on Peter's face right now.  He will never be able to live this down. Ever. Peter's probably already figured out how he will use this as leverage.  The fearless Stiles, that taunted him that night in the school when he was still a homicidal feral alpha, that survived the Nogitsune and countless other murderous supernatural creatures is scared shitless of a little thunder and lightning.  This is so humiliating!

 

Stiles shyly peeks up at Peter, that still hasn't said a word.  What he find is starling blue eyes studying him. Not with mirth or venom shining in them but with curiosity, concern and... _ fondness? _

 

‘Peter?’ he whispers, voice breaking.

 

‘Yes, darling?’ Peter answers, a comforting hand running up and down his side.

 

Stiles, upon noticing the little flames dancing in Peters eyes, starts to take in his surroundings for the first time.  They are apparently in front of a big fireplace, the flames throwing yellow and red shadows across them. Peter has apparently gathered all of the blankets and throws that he owns and created a bed, nest in front of it.  And he and Stiles is currently sitting in the middle of it, Peter with his back against the couch and Stiles...Yip, Stiles is curled up in his lap!

 

‘I should go’ he forces out, making to get up, but strong arms tighten around him.

 

‘Don't be ridiculous.  You're not going anywhere.’ Peter states in a voice that broaches no argument.

 

‘But…’ 

 

‘This is what's going to happen.  I'm going to get up and get you something more comfortable to wear.  Once we are finished changing, we are going to eat something’ he states as the gentle slides Stiles into the nest of blankets.  ‘Why don't you text your father to let him know that you are save and spending the night.’

 

‘Spending the ni…?  What?’ Stiles calls after Peter's retreating back.

 

Oh! Who is he trying to fool, he doesn't want to go anywhere, and not just because of the storm still raging outside.  It may have something to do with supernatural warmth, strong arms and certain pair of blue eyes.

 

So he messages his father.  Not specifying where exactly he is staying.  He hopes his father assumes it's at Scott's.

 

He changes into one of Peter's soft blue tee-shirts and a pair sweatpants, both at least a size too big, right there in front of the fire, with Peter surprisingly being a gentleman and turning his back to him. 

 

They snack on expensive cheese, baguettes, olives and fruit in comfortable silence. When they're finished eating and Peter takes the plates to the kitchen, Stiles starts to squirms.  Uncertain about the sleeping arrangements and feeling really awkward. He didn't have to worry thought, because then Peter returns from the kitchen he flops down in die middle of the nest and pulls Stiles down with him, manhandling him until he is in the position he wants him, which is Peter spooning Stiles from behind, arm wrapped around Stiles’ middle with the other under Stiles’ head.  Stiles stares into the flames with eyes as big as saucers.

 

‘Whaa…?’ Stiles squeaks out.

 

‘Stiles.  Sleep’ Peter orders.

 

‘Yes, sir’ comes out of Stiles mouth without his permission.  Which earns him a pinch next to his bellybutton. ‘Ouch! Easy on the merchandise!’ He grouches.

 

‘Stiles’ Peter says again taking hold of his chin and...planting a firm kiss on his slightly parted lips.  ‘Sleep’ he says with a small smile and flops down again pulling Stiles even closer arm crossed over Stiles chest, long fingers encircling the curve of his neck.

 

‘Well then,’ Stiles thinks staring into the dancing flames, the rain pattering against the windows in the background, ‘if thunder and lightning always leads to cuddling with the sexy big bad blue eyes wolf, he can maybe learn to live with it.’

 

**Author's Note:**

> Brought to you with complements from the approaching thunder storm and my rising panic...and longing for cuddles.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> xxx


End file.
